Safe and Sound
by Interstella
Summary: Literally a dream I had. Woke up and wrote it. It's kinda sad. A young woman brings some pretty terrible and shocking news for Sherlock.
1. Safe and Sound

AN/ I feel bad. This was literally a dream I had. I woke up and wrote it down before it completely faded. Then I went back and fixed it. This is the first draft. I fell asleep listening to Alex Goot's cover of Taylor Swift's "Safe and Sound", so that's where Sherlock's poem comes from. You should listen to that while you read this.

I'm just wondering if anyone thinks I should carry this on at all?

- 00 - Safe and Sound - 00 -

The day that changed everything started like a normal day. Cloudy and rainy, the day itself held nothing different, nothing new. It was odd, how it was just a normal day. If asked, John would be able to say that Sherlock had done something immature, and he'd left in a huff- picking up an extra couple of hours at the local surgery- just like he always did when Sherlock was in one of his moods.

He'd also be able to say that he hadn't been expecting Sherlock to call him home. And he had certainly never expected Sherlock to sound so panicked over the phone. True to his nature, the man had simply refused to give any details over the phone, just that he was needed _now_ and it was an _emergency_. Normally, John would ignore these calls but this one... he actually sounded genuine.

Sherlock told him that it was just after lunch time when she had shown up. From what John could tell when he returned home, she had simply appeared on their doorstep, covered head to toe in blood, her blue eyes large with fear and shock. Later, Sherlock had told him how she had allowed him to lead her into the sitting room. She'd sat there, silently, tears streaming down her face as she stared at nothing, her mind not being able to take in any new data.

John had instantly recognised the symptoms of shock and he quickly lay her on the sofa, covering her with blankets as she started to gasp for air, her body reacting to her panic.

The thing that surprised John perhaps the most at that point was how attentive Sherlock was to her. His arm was around her and he was holding her close to his chest, rocking her a little. Long dark hair was matted with the sticky red of blood and it stuck to Sherlock's chest, but he didn't seem to either notice nor care.

He spoke softly to her, telling her that she could trust John, that if Sherlock could trust him, she could too. John vaguely heard something about a butterfly.

"Alice..." Sherlock spoke quietly, his eyes wide and his own body seeming to slip into the symptoms of shock. It wouldn't have surprised John if the only thing preventing shock was his sheer will. "Alice. What happened...?" He spoke softly, his voice trembling a little.

"F-father... He came at me, Lock. I didn't know-" She was speaking through shuddering breaths, her eyes overflowing with tears as her body struggled to cope with the emotional onslaught. "I didn't know what to do...Lock you weren't there I didn't-" Sherlock's hand went to the top of her head, holding it close to his chest as he rocked slowly as she continued to repeat those words.

Raising his eyes, Sherlock looked at John and the doctor noticed that he was trembling. "Call Lestrade. Have him come here quickly. Please." there was a sense of urgency in his voice and John was quick to obey the plea. It wasn't often that Sherlock said please.

The DI must have been somewhere close, because he arrived within ten minutes of the call. Alice seemed to have calmed a bit by that point, though she was muttering that she didn't want to go to jail, and Sherlock was softly hushing her, promising that he wouldn't let that happen, his voice trembling a little as a single tear leaked from his eyes.

It must have looked like some sort of crime scene by the way that Lestrade's face paled when he walked in. "Good god what the hell happened?" He asked, eyes never leaving the two on the sofa.

"Lestrade...do you have a recording device?" Sherlock asked softly, his arms still wrapped tightly around the young woman. The DI nodded and began recording -they didn't need her to say this more than once.

After Sherlock reassuring the girl that she could trust Lestrade, she began to talk with a shaky voice.

"I-I came home from uni... m-my father was there, in the kitchen. I c-could smell it before anything else... Blood. I'm- p-pre-med so-so I know what it smells like. And I knew. I just knew. H-he was standing over her and-and there was b-blood, everywhere." She had to stop talking then, for the sobs that wrecked her body.

A shaking hand pulled her closer to Sherlock's chest and he whispered into her hair. "Just close your eyes. You'll be alright, no-one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound. Safe and sound, okay..?" His own breathing was hitching, his body trembling harder than before. The words were obviously something that he'd said to her often, and they were spoke in prose- perhaps a song?

After a moment, Alice continued. "M-mummy was-" She couldn't say it- "H-he saw me. Said that he'd warned her-and me... He-He came at me..." More sobs, and more reassurance from Sherlock in the form of the poem, "I don't know what happened. I-He-The next thing I know, he's on the floor next to mummy. I-I checked h-her. She was so still- there was so much blood- she-she wasn't breathing-h-her-she was-I checked. Oh god I didn't know what to do! Lock, mummy...she didn't have a pulse. She wasn't breathing and-and I think – I think I killed him!"

Sherlock was rocking her now, holding her close as she shook and sobbed. "J-John. Do you have anything to calm her down?" He asked, obviously meaning a sedative. His voice was thick, he seemed to be struggling himself. Obviously he had known Alice's mother-and this was affecting him on an emotional level.

John nodded and quickly made his way to his medical kit in his room. He returned very soon and Alice was soon lay still, sleeping on Sherlock.

The minute he knew she was out, he put her down and stood, hastily making his way into the bathroom. Worried for his friend, John followed, wincing as he heard the retching and subsequent flush of the toilet. Once Sherlock was finished, he led him into the kitchen, passing him a glass of water. It was taken with shaking hands.

Sherlock finished the water and put the glass down before covering his nose and mouth with the back of his hand taking halting breaths.

"Sherlock... you need to calm down." John told him softly, realizing that the man was heading quickly for a strong case of shock and possibly a panic attack. "I know Alice is a friend and her parents' deaths are probably a lot to take in-"

"Mycroft." John gave Sherlock a confused look and the other continued. "I-I need to call Mycroft... He-" He had to swallow then. He was hyperventilating and John knew that he needed to calm the man down before he did himself damage.

"I understand, but you need-"

"You don't understand!" Sherlock growled at him, hurt and desperation clawing it's way onto his face. "Alice isn't a _friend_. She's our half _sister_. On our _mother's side_."

Half sister? Mother's side...? That meant... "Oh god." Sherlock had just received news that his mother had been murdered. "Oh _god._"

Sherlock just nodded once and for once allowed John to place his hand on his shoulder to gently guide him into the sitting room. "Okay, I'll call Mycroft." He said softly, pushing the man into the couch beside his sister. "I'm going to give you something to calm you -okay?" He waited for Sherlock's nod before administering the sedative.

For Sherlock, everything went blank.

The next few hours were a blur for John. He'd informed Mycroft, who met them at Scotland Yard. Lestrade had sent somebody to the scene and from what forensics were saying, it looked to all add up. Mycroft gave a statement of how his stepfather had been abusive. Richard had been in prison up until a day ago. Apparently he'd escaped and Mycroft had been in the process of tracking him down when it happened. It was an open and shut case and of the three of them, Mycroft was handling the news the best.

Alice and Sherlock had both been taken to the medical bay in the Yard, both conscious but still in shock. For once, Sherlock didn't complain about the blanket.

It was agreed that Alice would stay with Sherlock and John for the time-being and that neither her nor Sherlock were to be alone for a while. John wasn't sure if either of them would ever really recover from this.

~~ 0 0 ~~ Safe and Sound ~~ 00 ~~  
AN/ I dunno if this is even worth continuing. It was just such a vivid dream that I had to post it...


	2. Concerning Hobbits

Concerning Hobbits

AN/ Okay...wow had quite a few reviews on the first part. Wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much... It's astounding really. So I've decided that I'll add another chapter. Nothing much happens in this one, and there is actually an idea forming in my head for a third. Though it would depend entirely on if people still like it after this chapter.

This story is un-beta'd. If anyone would like to volunteer, just let me know...

The song that I was listening to this time was a violin cover of "Concerning Hobbits" hence the title. It's also mentioned later.

I've never been to a funeral. Not my thing. So if I've done something wrong, let me know. It's only brief anyway, so it shouldn't really matter. Some John Sherlock friendship moments. Not slash. Just...well...comforting. I think poor Lock needs it right now.

~ 0-0 ~ Concerning Hobbits ~ 0-0 ~

"I want you to come."

John looked up at those words, lowering his newspaper so that he could see Sherlock. The man wasn't looking directly at him and it was obviously a difficult request for him to make. John knew what he was asking and he nodded once before speaking. "Of course."

And that was the end of that.

~ 0-0 ~ Concerning Hobbits ~ 0-0 ~

The service was held two days later. Morbid and quiet, the sky weeping lightly with the autumn rain.

It was a simple thing really, just a small group of people stood at the grave site as the body was lowered. Sherlock, Alice and Mycroft were seated at the front. None of that was surprising- the only thing that gave John pause for thought was when Sherlock had led him to sit with them.

Coming to the funeral was one thing -being among the family of the diseased seemed to be pushing it a little too far but when he turned to Sherlock to say as much, he noticed the strained look on his face. The man was trying his best to keep his emotionless mask in place and when a shaking hand grasped the fabric of his jacket, John realized that he wasn't there to pay his respects to Sherlock's mother- he was there for the man himself and if the detective needed him, then John would always be there.

After the funeral, Sherlock's need for John was expressed much more strongly than the doctor had ever imagined it would be. The minute they returned to the flat, Alice locked herself in Sherlock's room, leaving Sherlock and John alone in the sitting room.

John poured Sherlock a scotch and turned to hand it to him, expecting him to be sat in his chair. But the man was still stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost. Slowly, the mask began to fall and he turned to John, a look of complete and utter despair on his face. It was finally sinking in.

Putting the glass aside, the army doctor moved towards him, wanting to offer any comfort that he could. Stopping a few inches in front of him, John reached out, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He was about to ask if he was okay when Sherlock simply collapsed against him, his head on his shoulder and his hands grasping the front of his shirt in a tight embrace.

John simply held the man as he broke down, and when his knees gave out, they sunk to the ground together, John rocking them a little as he tried to keep his own feelings at bay.

Nobody would ever be able to tell John that Sherlock was an unfeeling monster again.

~ 0-0 ~ Concerning Hobbits ~ 0-0 ~

The day that Alice became comfortable in the flat was obvious for John. For the two weeks after her parents death's, she hadn't spoken a word to either Sherlock or himself and had simply locked herself in Sherlock's room. Even when her possessions had arrived, she hadn't spoken a word.

Sherlock had told him that it was nothing to be worried about -she used to do this a lot when she was a child and she had suffered any kind of emotional trauma. Since Sherlock hadn't seemed too worried, he vowed not to be either.

The detective himself was dealing with it as well as could be expected. What little sleep he did get was on the couch since he had allowed Alice his room for the duration of his stay, but John knew for certain that his mother's death was still bothering him. He was grieving in a healthy way. John just wasn't sure how to help either of them, he could only offer them the time and space that they both seemed to crave.

Thirteen days after the 'event', as John had taken to calling it, he came home to an uncommon scene. He heard it before he saw it, a quick and quirky melody filled the air and he couldn't help but smile as he climbed the stairs to their flat. If Sherlock was playing the violin, then he was obviously feeling better.

But when he opened the door, he could see that the person playing the violin wasn't Sherlock-but rather his sister. Alice had her back to him, facing the window as Sherlock often did. Her long fingers were flying over the neck and her body was swaying slightly as she played.

John found himself watching and appreciating the sound and swaying to the vaguely familiar melody. "Hello." he greeted finally.

Alice just turned and smiled at him, not breaking the flow of the music. She continued playing for a while and John found himself humming along before pausing and letting out a soft laugh. He should've realized that it wasn't Sherlock playing.

"Is that from the Lord of the Rings?" He asked her, receiving a curt nod in response. She finished the tune and pulled the violin down, a shy smile on her face.

"Sorry." She said, moving to put the violin back in the case. "I didn't think anyone would mind." She turned to John after placing the instrument down. After a second, she tensed before smiling and then nodding once. "I don't think we've ever actually talked properly." She said, moving to sit on Sherlock's chair.

She sat with one leg up, her foot pressed as close to herself as she could get. One arm wrapped lazily around it and she regarded John, her blue eyes roaming up and down him before she nodded again, this time seemingly to herself. "So I'm Alice." She introduced herself. "I don't think I actually caught your name, Butterfly."

Butterfly? Frowning, John thought on that for a moment before letting it go and smiling. "John. Watson." He introduced himself. She barely reacted, as if she already knew that-and with a start, John realized that she probably did. Her eyes held the same look that Sherlock often had when he was deducing. "But you'd already figured that out, hadn't you?" He asked, a slight smirk forming on his face.

Chuckling a little, Alice nodded, her long hair brushing her shoulders. She'd tied it back, but the curls were very prominent. She was definitely related to Sherlock, and it seemed that Sherlock had gained most of his looks from his mother since Alice shared them too.

"Yes." She said, "But unlike Lock, I tend to try to be a little more polite about it." She sent him a sly smile, "People don't often like me simply _knowing_ things about him."

"But you don't know." John said with a small smile, "You _observe._"

"Oh you're good, Butterfly." She seemed to relax a little, letting raised leg join the other on the ground. She stood and headed back to the violin. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing to the instrument. John shook his head and leaned back on the sofa, quite content to listen to her play.

"Any requests?" She asked, picking up the violin. She gently stroked the wood before getting into position.

"Something fast. That Sherlock isn't likely to have played."

Alice paused for a moment before smiling. "Vamo Ala flemenco." She muttered before beginning a rather quick and jolly melody. It made John bob around to it, and he was half tempted to get up and dance. She followed it up with a waltz. 'Full Waltz to the Moon' she had called it.

It was about five minutes into her rendition of 'Pirates of the Caribbean' when Sherlock finally returned. He made his way inside the flat and paused at the door, a small smile on his face as he observed the girl play with obvious talent.

He hung his coat and scarf and took a seat beside John on the couch to watch her finish. Once she played the last bar she bowed and smiled softly. She placed the violin back in its case and sat back down on the chair.

"I see you kept up with your lessons." Sherlock remarked and Alice nodded. She leaned back and relaxed.

"Mycroft insisted." She mumbled, a grimace on her face. "Claimed that it was part of my schooling."

"You're pre-med, right?" John asked, interested for obvious reasons. As intelligent as Sherlock was, he knew very little about the intricacies of medicine and it would be nice to have someone around who understood his work.

Alice bit her lip for a moment before shaking her head. "I was." This caused Sherlock to raise his eyebrows, so she continued, "I dropped out."

"Does Mycroft know?" Was Sherlock's only response.

"I should think so." Alice's bored tone told John that they'd had this conversation – or something similar often. Sherlock leaned back against the couch, his hands moving to their steepled position in front of his face as he looked at her, obviously expecting her to continue talking. "He _was_ paying for it. They would've contacted him when I stopped showing up."

A sigh from the detective, followed by "What are you to do next? Will you finally get a job?"

"I dunno. Just know that medicine bored me. I _really_ don't care what all the bones are called." She shrugged and the conversation petered out after that, and they spent the rest of the evening talking about nothing in particular.

For some reason, this was comforting for John. Watching Alice and Sherlock interacting, he could tell that the healing had begun, and that one day, they would be okay.

~ 0-0 ~ TBC? ~ 0-0 ~

AN/ Vamo Ala flemenco is a tune from Final Fantasy IX, and Full Waltz to the Moon is from Final Fantasy VIII. Two of my favourite tracks. Well worth listening to.

I'd like to know if anybody knows what Anderson's first name is, or if there's a headcannon for it, as he may show up soon along with the others.

Any comments, criticisms? I'm still developing Alice, so if she's a bit off, or there's something you'd suggest, please let me know.

Oh, and Butterfly will get explained later.

Now, I am wondering on people's opinion on Johnlock. I don't want to loose any followers etc if I put it in, but I think it could work here. Let me know.

And to everyone that reviewed, thank you! You can't even imagine how happy I was to get a review on this, let alone five!

So I hope everyone liked this...


	3. Drink and Fight

AN:/  
Here it is, chapter three. Part three. Whatever you want to call it. Officially down graded to incomplete status as it seems that I'm going to be adding more chapters to come. No over line plot ideas, so it may turn to crap but I dunno.

Everyone, put your hands together for Anderson! Yes-he's in this chapter, and I finally decided on a name.

~ Drink and Fight ~

"I was six."

The words came out of nowhere. John hadn't even been aware that Sherlock was in the flat, let alone in his room. Lifting his head, he looked at the man. Sherlock was stood leaning a little awkwardly against the door, his eyes focusing on the window to his left-pointedly ignoring John.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his entire posture screamed his discomfort.

"I'm sorry?" John wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about.

"When my father died." Still, he refused to look at John who was propped up on his bed, typing on his computer. When Sherlock spoke, he put the laptop aside and turned his full attention to Sherlock, knowing that if he waited, the detective would continue.

"I was six. My mother handled it badly. When I was eight, she remarried and fell pregnant." Biting his lip, Sherlock sighed and relaxed his stance. Dropping his arms he finally turned to John and entered the room. "At first, it was only when he was drunk or angry- and then only turned towards our mother."

As John listened, he realized what Sherlock was saying. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, but he didn't interrupt- just listened.

"Mother used to lock us in our room to keep us safe. She thought that we wouldn't be able to hear it-that we wouldn't be affected. By this time, Mycroft was eighteen and already attending Oxford, so it was just the two of us. Alice was only four years old, and she was terrified all the time. She's never been an idiot, she knew that it was only a matter of time before he turned his hand to her. But she couldn't stop herself from crying."

"What child could?" John asked quietly, sitting straighter and gesturing for the man to join him. It took Sherlock a moment, but eventually he perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he stared towards the door.

"I thought- I thought that if I could keep her quiet, he'd just forget about us. I..." His resolve seemed to be dissolving and John could tell that the man was loosing patience with his explanations. Why he was telling him this, he had no idea, but John had been to enough therapy to know that the man needed to talk about it.

"You sang to her." He provided, remembering that when Alice had first shown up, he'd sang a soft lullaby to calm her.

A single nod confirmed his suspicions and he watched his friend,not sure what to say.

"It kept her quiet- and I thought it worked, that he'd forget about us... But..." a deep breath, then, "I was thirteen, Alice was six. He came home drunk and... It lasted for four years before mummy realized that he was hurting us too."

And that seemed to be all that he wanted to say. They sat in silence for a while, simply staring into space. John was absorbing the information he'd just been given, while Sherlock...well, who ever knew what was going through Sherlock's mind? After a while, Sherlock stood and made to leave -stopped only by John's hand on his arm.

It was a silent promise of comfort, of an ear when he needed to talk. For a friend. The small smile and nod that Sherlock sent him told him that his message had been received and understood.

~ Drink and Fight ~

"You going out?" Sherlock asked, raising his head slightly. He was perched over the microscope on the kitchen table.

A raised eyebrow was thrown his way. Why was Sherlock trying to be polite? The man was the most observant person in London, so the fact that he was putting on his jacket and heading to the door should have been sufficient enough evidence for the detective to work it out.

"Yes..." John said slowly, knowing that the question Sherlock really wanted to ask was not so much 'are you' as 'where'. "I'm going to the pub."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Alice perk up from the couch. She put the book down on her chest as she gazed at him with her blue eyes. "Can I come?" she asked, already starting to sit up.

John was about to agree when Sherlock spoke up.

"You're too young." He said dissmissively as he returned to whatever he was studying under the microscope.

His words received and indignant huff from the young woman who rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm twenty six." She pointed out, getting to her feet. "I'll just get my jacket." She told John who nodded as she disappeared into Sherlock's room.

John watched her leave and then found his attention being drawn by Sherlock. He was giving him an icy stare and John just chuckled. Well... Sherlock did have a reason to be protective of her, he supposed. "You want to come along?" When Sherlock shuddered John chuckled again. "I'll take care of her. She'll be fine. Besides, I'm meeting Greg."

After a moment, Sherlock gave a nod.

When Alice re-emerged, having completely changed her outfit, they headed out.

~ Drink and Fight ~

The bar was loud and bustling, Friday night being among the most busy. When they arrived at the bar, Alice excused herself to the bathroom, promising to bring drinks back from the bar once she was done.

It took several minutes for the bar tender to notice her, but not quite as long for the man beside her. Rolling her eyes she sighed before turning to him. "Yes." She said, "I know they're big. I know they're nice. But I also know their mine." Hands on her hips, she glared at him. "So stop staring and piss off."

That was when the bartender gave her her drinks and she turned and left, finding John and sitting with him. He was sat with a woman and a familiar looking man. "Hello... You're... the Detective Inspector, right?" She asked, "The one that my brother called?"

"Yeah. Hello." He offered his hand for her to shake, "Greg Lestrade. Nice to see you under better circumstances."

Alice shook the hand as she sat down, "Alice Whittle." she then looked at the woman expectantly.

"Sally Donovan." She introduced herself. "Sargent."

"Man. Haven't been around this many cops since Amsterdam." Alice joked, her tone giving off the perfect amount of jovial enthusiasm for the comment to work. Years living with Sherlock Holmes had taught John when to spot a bluff. He frowned lightly.

"Anderson should be joining us soon." Greg told John, reaching for the beer he had on the table.

True to his word, Anderson arrived, carrying a drink of his own. Sitting between Lestrade and Donovan, he took a sip before looking up. He saw Alice and flinched as she glared at him.

"Ah. So I see you can remember where my face is." she commented sourly, causing John to look at her in confusion. "He was checking me out at the bar." She muttered, smirking a little as she noticed something. "You should keep him on a tighter leash." She told Donovan, who frowned in confusion.

Chuckling, John nudged Alice. "People don't like it when you _know_ things, remember."

"Ah. But I observed. Her clothes, at least two days on, they're wearing the same deodorant, and used the same shampoo. Her hair was done in a rush this morning, I'm a girl, I can tell. When he sat down, he smiled at her in that _oh so way_ and leaned in to her. Of course, it is possible that they're just close friends, but the fact that his hand is on her thigh and that her foot is rubbing mine, thinking it's his speak for the fact that they are, in fact, having an affair. Ah. The foot is gone now."

One second. Two seconds. Three. John and Alice both burst into laughter at the looks on Donovan's and Anderson's faces.

"Maybe we should've mentioned," Lestrade began, a look of amusement on his face, "Alice is Sherlock's younger sister."

"So I'd recommend," John continued, staring at Anderson, "That you refrain from doing anything that may upset her brother."

~ Drink and Fight ~

As the night progressed, the awkwardness of the first meeting had quickly dissipated thanks to the number of drinks that each person had imbibed.

"Aww. Where's Anderson gone?" Alice asked as she re-took her seat from a bathroom break.

Chuckling, John shook his head, trying not to let the dizziness show. "He left. You didn't like him anyway."

Fake pouting, Alice shook her head, sipping at her water, "No. But he's like the idiotic class puppy that everybody just loves to kick." She said with a shrug. Once John had finished his drink, she stood and offered him her arm. "C'mon. Lock's gonna go spare if we're much later. He's already called me four times tonight."

And so, Alice found herself leading a moderately drink Watson through the streets of London. He stumbled a lot, and giggled a whole lot more and Alice couldn't help but laugh at him as he nearly fell. Hoisting the man up, she pulled his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, Butterfly." She said, pulling him to the side the flat.

"Lock, a hand?" She called up the stairs, knowing that there was no way she could lead John up the seventeen steps on her own.

It took only a few moments for Sherlock to appear at the top of the stairs, a wiry, exasperated look on his face. He made his way down the steps and unburdened Alice. "John. How much have you had to drink?" He asked quietly, smirking as he shouldered most of the man's weight.

Glancing behind him, he looked at Alice with a raised eyebrow, noting that she was still completely sober.

"He's had seven. I've had one." She mumbled, following them upstairs. She watched in amusement as Sherlock manhandled John upstairs.

"Why did he feel the need to get so drunk?" he asked her, realizing that getting a straight answer from John would be pointless.

"Anderson, I think."

"Ah. Yes. He is quite infuriating."

"Idiotic is more like. God, I don't think he has two brain cells to rub together!"

John chuckled and shook his head, "Andy isn't that bad!" He mumbled with a giggle. "You just too smart to know."

Alice and Sherlock paused at that. "Anderson's name is... Andy...?" Sherlock asked.

"Andy Anderson...?"

John nodded violently. "Andrew Anthony Anderson. His mum was a poet." Sherlock stumbled a little as John's weight suddenly increased. He'd fallen sideways into the man, still laughing.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock readjusted their positions and took the man to his room, his mind summoning memories of a somewhat similar experience after his first encounter with the Woman. Laying the man down, he awkwardly arranged the blankets over his friend. "Good night... Butterfly." Sherlock muttered, leaving the man to sleep.

The last thought running through John's mind as he fell asleep was, '_What's with the Butterfly?'_

~ Drink and Fight ~

A/N;

Okay, so there wasn't actually any fighting in the chapter. I kinda have a feeling that I've screwed up somewhere... I just wanted to include Anderson since he's quite amusing. Tris and I spent ages coming up with Anderson's name xD. First, Bob, then Bill, then Blake. Then Andrew xD-Andrew Anthony Anderson.

Butterfly may get explained in the next chapter -if I do one. Not sure what else to add though... So again, anything you want to see, any thoughts, opinions, criticisms, throw them my way!

Drink and Fight is by Flogging Molly and is a pretty upbeat Irish drinking song.


	4. Keep Holding On

AN/ Wholy crap this fic is popular. Compared to most of my others. Five hundred views in five days! My godtiss...

Okay, so hopefully this chapter will answer some questions... Mainly the whole Johnlock issue and Butterfly.

Also, I wrote the first part of this in the midst of a migraine- I was literally blind. I couldn't see a thing, and touch typed it. I checked over it later, but if I've missed anything I do apologise, and feel free to let me know.

Trigger warnings for child and domestic abuse.

The song I was listening to while writing this was Boyce Avenue's cover of "Keep Holding On".

Oh-And it's about time I put a disclaimer on here; If I owned Sherlock then there wouldn't be such a long wait for S3.

Jonlock issue- Okay, so I asked if I should put Johnlock in this or not, and every single reviewer said no. So they're friends. Close friends. My fiancé and I don't have sex-never have and never will (Both of us being sociopathic, it works for us) but I still love her in my own way. I have a strong attachment to her, and I sort of see John and Sherlock to have a very similar relationship.

~ Keep Holding On ~

The bitter wind cut through their clothing, causing the three to pull their jacket's closer to their bodies, conserving as much heat as possible. John sent Sherlock a small glare-the man looked toasty warm in his long coat and scarf. Alice was dressed similarly, her long coat leather rather than wool.

Why did John always feel unaddressed when he was around them?

Rounding the corner, the trio paused as they came across a bustle of activity. Police cars surrounded a building, Lestrade out front looking haggard. Sherlock took in the scene quickly before approaching, John and Alice trailing behind him.

"What's going on?" He asked, his natural curiosity getting the better of him.

Lestrade looked at them before sighing and running his hand through his hair.

"You okay?" Alice asked, her eyes, like her brothers, was roaming over the scene.

Lestrade nodded before his shoulders slumped. "We have a bit of a situation. We were called for a domestic-we've caught the guy and the wife's fine, but... She says that her daughter's still in the building but we can't find her."

Sherlock nodded once before heading into the house. John made to follow but a hand on his arm stopped him. Turning to Alice, he raised an eyebrow. "He'll find her." She said before disappearing into the house.

~ Keep Holding On ~

The house was dark, all curtains closed and no lights on. Sherlock made his way slowly through the building, making sure to make enough noise for the child to know he was there, but not enough to be threatening.

He first began to check the rooms, under the beds – then, in one last effort, the cupboards. She was in the one under the stairs.

Gently opening the door, Sherlock knelt down, making himself lower, closer to the ground. This was meant to make him be on the same level as the child -less intimidating. He saw her, huddled against the corner, fear obvious in her dark eyes.

Slowly, he reached his hand out. "Hello." He spoke quietly, "My name is Sherlock." Slow, precise, simple words. "I won't hurt you." The girl was trembling, tears splashed over her cheeks, fear shinning from her dark eyes. No child should ever have to go through that. "It's okay. He's gone now. You're safe. Safe and sound, and I'll make sure that he never comes near you again. Never again."

That seemed to work. The child let out a sob and rushed to his open arms. Gently pulling her into an embrace, Sherlock shouldered out of one sleeve of his coat, lifting the child onto his hip an covering her with the coat. Holding it closed with his free hand, he made sure that she was comfortable enough for him to stand and walk. "So what's your name then?" He asked quietly, offering her a small smile.

"Taylor." She answered in a tiny voice, clutching close to him.

"Hello Taylor." Keeping his eyes forward, he held her close, covering her face with his coat so that she wouldn't have to see the house that she'd suffered such abuse in. "I'm going to get you to meet my sister. Her name is Alice. She's going to ask you some questions. Okay?" There was a nod against his shoulder and he held her a little tighter.

Holding such a tiny life in his arms reminded him of Alice when she was younger. She'd clung to him- always by his side and seeking his comfort. The sudden memory made Sherlock want to protect this child from any that might try and harm her.

~ Keep Holding On~

Outside, Lestrade was stood waiting as Sherlock approached him. "Lestrade." He greeted, moving towards the waiting ambulance without stopping. Alice was already there and she reached out for the child. Taylor was placed on the step next to her. Sherlock gently petted her head as Alice's arms reached around her in a loose but comforting embrace.

"I'm just going to go an talk to that man." Sherlock gestured to Lestrade, crouching down so that he was again at the same level. Offering her a soft smile, he lifted his eyes to Alice. "Alice will look after you, okay?"

When Taylor nodded, Sherlock turned and walked to Lestrade. "Alice will calm her down." He said quietly, "Let her talk to her before you ask any questions. I'll let you know when she's up to it." He noticed the astonished and confused look on Lestrade's face and sighed softly. "I've been there." was all that he would be willing to say on the matter and the detective inspector just nodded once, knowing enough not to pry.

John followed Sherlock as he moved away from the commotion and back towards the ambulance. He sat on the ground close to the door and looked up at Taylor with a smile before turning to watch the police. He was making it clear to everyone (especially Taylor), that he was looking out for the child.

Alice took one of Taylor's hands gently and turned it so that her wrist was pointed up.

"Hey sweetie, have you heard of the magic of butterflies?" She asked quietly.

John, who had sat beside Sherlock, perked up at that. Ignoring the smirk from Sherlock, he listened to the young woman.

"No? Well let me tell you. Inside every person is a small creature. At first, when a person is born, it's tiny. It starts off so small that most people don't even know that it's there. But as the person grows up, it grows too. Then, it starts to be a shape." As she spoke, she began to trace a shape on the young girl's wrist, using a red pen that she'd found within the ambulance. "At first, it's just a small ball. Then it grows longer and longer until it's long and fat. Now, if a person is good- then it can grow on from there. It wraps itself in the goodness of that person, and it protects itself from all the bad in the world. Now it can grow without the bad spoiling it." She began to trace a few lines, coming from the rough long circle. "It grows a bit for every part of the person that is good and sometimes, when a person is _really _good- like a princess, or a knight, it grows into a beautiful butterfly.

"Now, if the person isn't very good, it doesn't grow. And if the person is a bit good, it'll grow into an ugly black butterfly."

She finished her sketch and looked up to smile at the child. "My brother and I, we have a magic. We can see a person's butterfly. And do you know what... Your butterfly is just growing, but already I can see it's colours. You're all pink, and purple and blue and red. That means that you're brave and kind."

This earned her a smile from the girl, shy but sweet. "What's your brover?"

"Sherlock? He's all green and blue. With a little bit of pink. He's brave. And loyal. And that man there, his name is John. But he's all gold and blue. He's full of love and very, very loyal."

"And what about you...?"

"Well, I don't know. I can't see my own." Alice said with a smile, gently petting the youth's hair.

This seemed to get the desired effect, because when the girl turned to face Sherlock, Alice's smile changed from comforting to proud.

"Sh'lock... what's Alice?"

"Well..." Sherlock said, pretending to think as he stared at his sister. "Purple. Blue. And Orange." He said with a nod.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that she's strong and smart. And that she cares."

As John listened, he felt his heart melt a little. This was obviously something that both Sherlock and Alice had been told when they'd been in the same situation. Is that where his nickname came from? Did they really think that he was that good of a person?

When he caught Sherlock's eye, he had his answer. The small smile that the man gave him before turning and standing was all that he needed to know.

"Hey, Taylor," Sherlock said, turning to the girl. "The man that I talked to before. His name is Greg. He's going to make sure that you're looked after." When Taylor looked a little unsure, he gave her a reassuring smile. "He's a brilliant silver. He's got some gold and bright red too. That means that he's kind-very kind and that he's a shinning knight. Will you let him look after you?"

Again, Taylor nodded and Sherlock walked back to Lestrade, letting him know that the child would give him full co-operation.

~ Keep Holding On ~

When they returned to the flat, Sherlock had actually been tired. Alice had offered to share her bed for the night- pointing out that they had shared a lot as children and that one night won't hurt much. To John's surprise, he'd agreed and followed her into his room.

This left John on his own. He found that he couldn't sleep. He was still wondering what was to happen with the young girl they had helped rescue. For a five year old, she'd been incredibly brave.

Sighing, he realized that there was no way that he would be able to sleep without calming himself down first -so he did what any self respecting Brit would. He made tea.

He must have been lost in thought because the next thing he knew, Alice was re-emerging from the room, the mop of unruly hair telling of the fact that she'd been tossing and turning for a while before giving up.

"Can't sleep?" John asked, standing and heading into the kitchen. It looked like he was going to get his tea after all. Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled out a second cup for Alice.

"Nightmares." She said simply, watching the man from Sherlock's chair. "Brings back old memories, y'know?" Leaning back, she rubbed at her temples. "If Sherlock hadn't told Mycroft..." She shook her head, "Nobody was going to rescue us. I'm just glad that that little girl got out safe."

The kettle clicked and John poured the water. Nodding, he brought the tea into the room, willing to be the one to listen.

"When Sherlock realized that nobody was going to help us-and that he couldn't save us, he called Mycroft. We were safe less than a week later-but Mike had already gone back to school. I think Lock still blames him for not staying around." At John's confused frown she smiled bitterly, "They tried to separate us- put us into care and take us away from mummy."

Ah. That wouldn't have been a very good idea. "They thought your mother might be unstable?"

Alice nodded and sighed. "But Mike went back to school. Said he had to-else he wouldn't be able to look after us in the future. Since then, Sherlock's refused to ever ask him for help-and he wouldn't take anything Mike offers him. Never. He's still angry." She shook her head, "It's silly really, but when Mike's around, he acts like he used to-before Richard started on us." She smiled, her eyes glazed over in memory. "We used to have fun. Sometimes, we'd dress up as pirates- and once, Sherlock pretended to be a fairy." She laughed softly and John couldn't help but chuckle.

It was odd, thinking of Sherlock pretending like that. Mycroft had said something about Sherlock wanting to be a pirate when he was child, but he'd never really thought that he'd played dress-up.

"I bet he made an amazing fairy." He said with another chuckle.

"Oh he did. He _sparkled_. He had this little hand dance that he used to do," She demonstrated for John, raising her arms first up, then flicking them outwards. He'd seen Sherlock do that once- in reference to Bluebell the rabbit and he just laughed. So Sherlock had used that as a child?

They reminisced for a while, Alice telling John stories of their youth, of how she and Sherlock used to play like normal children until it started to get bad.

After a while, the conversation petered out and Alice sat back, sipping at her rapidly cooling tea. She watched John for a short while before speaking. "You really do love him, don't you?" She asked quietly, her blue eyes following his every movement. "I mean, you must. Or else you would've left before now. My brother isn't an easy man to live with."

John sighed, "I just want to get one thing straight. I'm not gay. There's nothing sexual between me and Sherlock Holmes."

"I never said there was." Alice said with wiry amusement. "You don't have to have sex with him to love him. You're devoted to him. You take care of him, make sure that he eats, make sure that eh doesn't accidentally kill himself. You protect him from the evil in the world, and at times, from himself."

Sometimes, John hated the way that their family seemed to be able to read him like a piece of paper. Did they have some sort of magical ability? Because this went far beyond simply watching. Didn't it?

"You love him, as more than a friend. Platonically or otherwise. You're not sexually attracted to him, and probably never will be. But I think for him, just knowing that you're there is enough." She smiled at him. "You take care of him-and he lets you. That's something that not even Mycroft or myself can get from him. You're good for him."

Standing, she ignored his dumbfounded look and headed to the kitchen to dispose of her cup. On her way back past, she smiled and ruffled his hair. "Welcome to the family, Butterfly."

And with that, she headed back into the bedroom.

~ Keep Holding On ~

AN/

So what did you think? This chapter answered a lot of questions I hoped.

The butterfly thing was, by the way, complete and utter bullshit. Something that I figured Sherlock would come up with as a kid to comfort Alice.

My fiancé Tris (x-Trisana-Skystorm-x) is actually helping me with this fic now. It's her likeness that's used for the cover since she mostly fit (she has hazel eyes and wears glasses and her hair is too short, but other than that... xD). She came up with a few things that were mentioned here, but may be addressed more later. She's also helping me with the psychology behind the characters.

Now just to be clear, I have NEVER been in a situation like this. Everything that I'm writing is coming from my imagination and/or from reading the psych text books.

If there's anything that I've got wrong-any mistakes etc. let me know. I'd also like to know any ideas you have in regards to this fic.

I'll be sure to add more of the Yarders in later- Specifically Anderson (I like him for some reason-like Alice said, he's the puppy that everybody loves to kick). Mycroft (Or "Mike" as he hates to be called) may show up. Not sure I could write him though.

I've had a few guests review- so if you're reading this next chapter and you left an anon review before, thank you since I couldn't thank you in a review reply. It makes me very happy to get reviews!

Until next time!

- 'Stella


	5. Get What I Want

F – 3 Months

AN/

New chapter guys! I actually know where I'm going with this now. Got a plot (and a poem!) sorted now. Would post the poem, but it will contain spoilers ^^.

~ Get What I Want ~

"What the fu-!? ALICE!"

At the loudly exclaimed words, John hurried up the stairs after his best friend. Seventeen steps and then- he saw what Sherlock was seemingly so upset about.

"The flat...it's tidy!" It wasn't just tidy- it was spotless. There wasn't a single thing out of order. Even Sherlock's experiments had been moved. Every book was upon the shelf, as Sherlock seemed to have noticed.

He watched as his friend studied the area, a bewildered look on his face. "Alphabetised." He mumbled, fingering a few books. Then, as if the fact that the flat being tidy offended him, he picked one off the shelf and biffed it over his shoulder, not seeming to care where it landed.

"ALICE!" He called again, moving to the desk. John quickly intercepted before the man could throw his laptop and gave him a half amused glare.

"What's wrong with the flat being a bit tidy every now and then?" He asked, glad that for once he wasn't the one who had to clean it.

His question was simply answered with another glare. "She's moved everything. _Everything_." John was sure the sound that followed was a growl. "I had experiments, John. They're probably all ruined now! Damn her, where is she? ALICE!"

But there was still no answer. Noticing a note on the fridge, Sherlock stalked over to it, ripping it off the (clean) surface.

"Gone to shops. Need tampons. Don't mess up.

-Alice"

He read the note out loud before crumpling it up and throwing it in a random direction. It landed by John's feet and he picked it up, a chuckle leaving him.

"Sherlock, calm down." He ordered as his friend yanked open the fridge. The unimpressed whine could only say that there was something missing from there too.

"It's gone, _all of it_."

Well...that wasn't all bad. "The head?"

"Yes."

"The toes too?"

"Yes. The toes too, John. All of it. There's nothing useful in there at all!" Slamming the fridge door hard enough to make the whole unit shudder he childishly moved to the couch and threw himself bodily upon it. Sulking then.

Dropping the note into the bin John moved to the fridge, intent on checking for himself. Well.. Nothing useful obviously didn't include food. Alice had obviously gone shopping, or ordered shopping in at some point because the fridge (which had been thoroughly cleaned both inside and out) was completely full of all kinds of food. Raising an appreciative eyebrow, he closed the fridge and opened the freezer, finding it in a somewhat similar condition. Even the frozen ants had been removed.

Briefly he wondered where she had put all the crazy things that Sherlock usually kept, but he decided that so long as it wasn't in his room or the bathroom, he didn't really care.

"Well there's food in." He muttered as he closed the freezer. Glancing over at his friend he realized that the man was now in a _very_ sour mood. "Tea?" He offered, already putting the kettle on to boil.

There was a non-committal sound from the other room and John pulled out two cups.

By the time tea was served, Alice stepped through the door with yet more shopping bags. "Oh, you're home." She stated as she finished climbing the stairs.

Sherlock sprung from the sofa to confront the girl, still glowering.

"You cleaned up!" He growled.

"Very observant. Soon you'll be smarter than even Anderson!" She didn't even look up as she placed the food in the cupboard and the milk in the fridge. After she was finished, she sighed and turned to Sherlock. "Anything that could withstand the damp is in 221C. Anything that was in the refrigerator or freezer is also down there in identical conditions. Anything that couldn't withstand the damp is in your room- in _exactly the same conditions_." She emphasised the end part.

"Why!?" Apparently her simply telling him where everything was wasn't enough.

"Because I didn't want the place to be a mess when everybody came over." She smirked as Sherlock growled again, obviously knowing that this was just annoying Sherlock even more.

"Why?" This time, the word was drawn out and even from where John sat in the living room he could see the twitch under Sherlock's eye.

"Why did I not want the place to be a toxic mess when all of my friends come over? I do wonder." She turned her back on Sherlock to flip on the kettle, reaching for a cup for herself.

"You're being deliberately obtuse! Why. Is. Everybody. Coming. Here?"

John could practically hear Alice rolling her eyes as she prepared herself some tea. "Because it's my birthday."

"Not for another three days." Sherlock countered quickly, accusingly.

Taking pity on the young woman, John joined them in the kitchen, gently taking Sherlock's shoulders and leading him back into the sitting room. "In three days it'll be a Monday. Some people like to celebrate a little early or late so that they can do it on a weekend. Now sit down." He ordered, all but pushing Sherlock into his armchair.

There was a small smile of thanks from Alice as she finished making her drink. Unlike Sherlock, she preferred tea from the bag, rather from a pot and it was quicker and easier for her to prepare. She then joined them, cradling the cup in her cold hands.

"Look, Sherlock, it's not a lot of people. I only invited people you know and they won't be here for more than a day. Most will go home tonight." She smiled at him, "I haven't had a birthday party since Mummy got sick and I wanted to get to know the people in your life a little better."

Sherlock still didn't seem happy about this, but John smiled and nodded. "It'll be fine, Sherlock." He reassured his friend. Both of his friends.

The slightly betrayed look he received for that was both comical and adorable but he tried his best not to laugh. "Fine." Sherlock relented, throwing up his arms in an exaggerated agreement. "So long as Anderson doesn't show up."

"Well..." Alice began, "About that... Funny story...well...not really funny...and not so much a story..."

"Anderson's invited, isn't he?"

"Yes."

~ ~ Get What I want ~ ~

Four knocks upon the door and Mrs. Hudson answered. "Oh hello dear!" She greeted loudly, "They're upstairs," Then there were footsteps on the stairs. Heavy and sure.

"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector." Sherlock said from the couch, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading. He was determined not to enjoy the evening and was already scowling a hole in the pages.

"Sherlock." He could just about hear the man's quick nod as he took a seat on John's chair. "Where are Alice and John?" The DI asked.

"They've gone to get...something." Sherlock sighed and put the book down. He knew Lestrade wasn't one for silence. He could use this time to observe. Lestrade held himself taught, his muscles around his shoulders and neck were tense and his posture screamed pressure. He had obviously had a long day, or a bad case. A smudge of ink on his right hand spoke that he'd been doing paper work for most of the day and the way he was constantly tapping his foot made him seem uncomfortable.

For once, Sherlock decided to try small talk. "Something about an 'ex' and a 'box' with a guitar. I wasn't really paying attention."

"An xBox?" There was an appreciative nod from Lestrade.

They settled into an awkward silence and Sherlock returned to his book, doing his best to ignore the man and trying not to figure out what was in the small wrapped box sitting on the policeman's lap.

It wasn't long before the front door opened and closed and John and Alice came up the stairs, laughing about something. John was carrying a large box under his arm and Alice had a long one under her arm. "Oh, Greg, you're here already!" She greeted him, a grin on her face.

"Happy birthday," He said, offering her a hand which she shook. He then handed her the gift box. She grinned and thanked him before placing it on the desk.

"I'll open them all together." She explained. "Mycroft will be bringing one too." She placed the box in front of the television, gesturing for John to hand her the other. He did so before moving into the kitchen to deposit the other bag.

When he returned, Alice had begun to set up the console.

Some time later, there was another knock at the door and Mrs. Hudson let both Anderson and Donovan inside, this time following them upstairs with a plate of finger foods.

The night passed amicably, and even Sherlock found himself reluctantly enjoying himself. Not long after Mycroft arrived, Alice opened her gifts.

A new coat from John, long and black but comfortable. Closing just under the bust- the perfect fit for a woman of her shaplyness. "You're always so colourful, so I thought it'd be best to get something that'll go with all of it." John told her with a shrug and a smile.

From Mycroft, she received a not so subtle hint that he wished her to return to school- A brand new copy of Gray's Anatomy of the human body. She rolled her eyes at him, and upon noticing John's hungry gaze, she handed it to him.

"You can read that if you like." She said with a smile, letting out a small laugh as he greedily snatched it up.

Returning to the gifts, she opened up Lestrade's first. It was a boxset of DVD's. "Are these-" She began before pulling the box closer to read the label. "The extended edition! In Bluray!" She grinned, putting her new 'Lord of the Rings' Dvd's down and looking up at Lestrade. "Thanks!"

Next, two gift certificates, one from Anderson and one from Donovan. The next gift was from Mrs. Hudson, a new recipe book.

The final gift was a little heavier and she frowned before looking up at Sherlock who simply nodded at her. "It's taken me twenty years to save for it." He said quietly as she carefully peeled back the paper. Upon seeing the cover, her eyes widened considerably.

With shaking hands she carefully pulled the book away from the paper and opened it gently. "F-first edition... My god..." Tears welled up in her eyes and Sherlock had to look away in discomfort.

"Lock..." Alice bit her lip and took a breath, trying to control her emotions. "T-thank you..."

Mycroft looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the book cradled carefully on her lap. "Alice in Wonderland?" He turned to his brother, ignoring the apparent embarrassment. "That book goes for over a hundred thousand pounds." There were gasps from around the room

"Like I said. I've been saving." Sherlock mumbled, sinking into the couch. For once, he wasn't enjoying everybody's eyes on him.

Alice stood, carefully placing the book on the bookshelf. She then turned and practically threw herself at her older brother, dragging him into a tight embrace, tears flowing from her eyes. To her, it wasn't simply a first edition book, it was more personal than that. To know that Sherlock had been saving for so long- to know that he'd never once used that money for himself, even in the throws of the multiple drug addictions he'd previously had- it meant so much to her.

Then there was the fact that it was _that _book. The book that they used to use to escape, the first book she'd ever fallen in love with. The book that had brought them even closer as children. "Thank you." She sobbed quietly into his shoulder as she felt his arms go around her.

"Happy Birthday, Alice." He said quietly.

It took them a little while to get back into the swing of the party- but some time between guitar hero and jelly-shots, Alice found herself leaning half drunkly against the wall in the kitchen. She was laughing at something and soon found herself being taken down to 221c.

Anderson was soft and tender, his movement careful as if she was a precious china doll. She found it dreadfully dull. Her mind wandered, even in her drunken state she was able to concentrate on several things at once while still making the sounds and movements expected from her.

At first, she had thought that it would be fun but by the end she vowed never again. Anderson was too soft.

As he gathered his clothes to leave, she rolled over, her back facing him. "Don't feel special." She told him, "You're my third this week." She mumbled, bundling herself up in the blankets.

~ ~ Get What I Want ~ ~

The next morning, she returned upstairs for breakfast. Everybody had left the night before and the flat was blissfully quiet. John and Sherlock were both already up, sitting in the living room.

"Where did you wander off to last night?" John asked, looking up at her from the rim of his teacup.

Tea. That sounded fantastic. She wondered into the kitchen to brew herself a cup. "Downstairs. Didn't I tell you. I live there now. Began renting it yesterday."

"Mycroft is paying of course?" Sherlock asked, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper under his gaze.

"Of course." Alice confirmed, moving to sit on the couch with her now steaming cup of tea.

"And you were safe, I take it." Still, Sherlock didn't look up from his paper, but John threw him a confused look.

"Yes, brother, I'm not an idiot."

"I'm sorry. I think I've missed something." John muttered.

"She slept with Anderson."

At John's shocked look, she shrugged, choosing not to comment on it. Instead, she enjoyed her tea.

"With...?" Really, John was slow sometimes.

"Anderson. Yes." No point denying it. "Dreadfully dull. Like the rest of him." She smirked lightly, "I ended up playing mental Tetris. Far more entertaining."

This got a snort from Sherlock and a few blinks from John. He still didn't seem to understand, which was just amusing for Alice.

"So you live downstairs now?" Sherlock asked, finally looking up from the newspaper.

Nodding, Alice put her cup on the coffee table and leaned back on the sofa, relaxed. "Yeah. I figured you might eventually want your room back. I'll move my stuff tonight. You're welcome to keep your experiments down there, so long as I'm welcome to hang out up here. Don't like to live alone."

There was a simple nod from Sherlock. His phone buzzed and he checked the message. "Lestrade." He said to John. "He wants us to meet him."

With that, Sherlock stood and headed to his room to change, and John grabbed his shoes. "We'll see you later, okay." He said with a smile.

"Sure." She smiled and nodded, "The world needs the Reichenbach hero."

"Oh don't you start." Sherlock mumbled as he exited his room, fixing his jacket sleeves as he walked.

"It's all over the papers." She grinned, taking glee in his discomfort. He just rolled his eyes and with John, they left.

~ ~ Get What I Want ~ ~

AN/

The song is Get What I Want by Bitter Sweet.

There is more to come. But first there will be several 'filler' chapters.

Just in case you don't get it from this (as it's not amazingly clear), this chapter is set at the very beginning of "The Reichenbach Fall".

Moriarty will be making an appearance soon.

I need to thank my beautiful fiance for her help with this chapter. Thank you Tris. You are such an amazing muse.


	6. How to Save a Life

AN/  
So finally, we have some plot forming and Moriarty appears!  
God I love Moriarty. I refuse to believe that he's dead.  
The song I was listening to during this chapter is "How to Save a Life" by The Fray.  
Once again, this is self-beta'd. So it's not perfect. At all.

F-2 Months

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

"Mycroft." The name was spoken before anybody even saw him. Sherlock walked into the room and glared at his brother. "What are you doing here?" He asked as John and Alice followed him into the flat.

John frowned at the appearance of the eldest Holmes before ambling into the kitchen to prepare his customary tea. Alice simply nodded at Mycroft once before throwing herself at the sofa. Leaning back comfortably, she watched her brothers. It wasn't often that she saw them together, even growing up. Mycroft had moved to university when she had been only two years old after all.

"Am I not allowed to simply visit my family?" Mycroft asked, resting his umbrella over his thighs. Before anybody could answer, he continued, "The two of you are, after all, the only family I have left. Though I suppose I should say 'three' of you, as you both appear to have included Doctor Watson in our little...unit."

"That doesn't explain why you're here." Sherlock said bitterly, glaring at his brother as he perched himself on the arm of the sofa. Arms crossed in a subconsciously defensive posture he looked down at the elder.

With a dramatic sigh, Mycroft sat up straight, accepting the tea that John brought in and sipping it slowly, taking his time to answer. "You have been putting off the reading." He said finally, "It needs to be done."

John sat on the free chair and watched as Sherlock tensed. Alice bit her lip but said nothing. Silence resonated from the flat for a few moments before Mycroft sighed. "It has to be done. To put this all behind us." And with that, he sat forward and placed his teacup on the table. He stood then, holding his ever present umbrella in his left hand. "Thank you for the tea. You have been gracious as ever." He gave a small nod to John.

As he was leaving, he spoke over his shoulder, "Tomorrow at seven am. I trust you know where to meet. Oh, and John, you are named also, so I do expect that you will come along."

Once again, the flat was quiet. The moment the door closed, both Alice and Sherlock pulled identical faces at it. Before relaxing. Sherlock moved to the newly vacated seat before sitting and sighing.

"So..." John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, "Why would I be named in your mother's will?"

"You're family." Alice answered for Sherlock, sitting up and shrugging. "Lock talked about you, and when mother got sick, she said she wanted to leave something to the only friend that he's ever had." John glanced at Sherlock at that-the man was looking anywhere but at him.

Nodding once, he smiled softly. "Then I suppose I should go."

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

It had taken a while to convince Sherlock that he had to go. For some reason, the man was avoiding the subject of his mother's death completely and it wasn't until Alice threatened to go on a hunger strike that Sherlock agreed to go.

The office was stuffy, full of still, stifling heat and John found it difficult to breathe to begin with. Placing himself in between Sherlock and Alice, he watched the lawyer shuffle a few papers around before sitting. It wasn't long before Mycroft arrived and the meeting began.

The reading went smoothly- Sherlock was even (mostly) polite to the lawyer. Whatever possessions their mother had were split between the three of them except one thing.

"To my youngest son's best friend, Doctor John Hamish Watson, I leave my son. I request he continues to take care of him and bringing him out into the light of the real world. I thank him from the bottom of my heart. To him, I also leave my medical journals and equipment. May he find them as useful as I once did."

Those words played over in John's mind. He felt...flattered. As strange as the family was, it was gratifying to know that they had accepted him into their midst.

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

Things quickly got back to normal on Baker Street. John and Sherlock took cases, and Alice found herself doing more and more research online. She had to figure out exactly what it was that she wanted to do with her life.

Then, five days after Sherlock's "Reichenbach" case, Alice fell upon something else. Her computer had run out of power and the cable was downstairs in her room. But John's was right there on the table. Easily hacking the password, she loaded up the web browser. The screen flared up with an unsaved post for his blog and she found her eyes scanning it.

So they were working on the triple break in case? Scanning her eyes over the post, she frowned. Why was the name "Moriarty" familiar?

Completely forgetting her own research, she went back and read over John's blog.

"Interesting..." she mumbled to herself as she continued reading.

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

It was a rare day in London when the sky was cloudless and the sun was warm. John found himself looking up at it with a soft smile before sighing softly. This case had been a doozy. Moriarty had walked free. After everything that had happened, after everything that the man had orchestrated, he _walked free_. It was almost enough for John to lose his faith in the justice system. Almost. He wasn't a fool. He knew that Moriarty had gotten to the jury and he also knew that the man wouldn't be traced.

He could only guess as to what the man's next move would be.

As he opened the door, he heard frantic shouting coming from the flat. Recognising Sherlock's voice, and then Lestrade's calmer one he rushed up the stairs.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyes wide at the scene before him. Sherlock was pacing before the couch, his hands wringing anxiously as he moved. Every so often he threw a glare at Lestrade who was standing by the armchair.

"He's got Alice."

and with those three words, John felt his heart stop.

Alice had only lived with them for the last few months, but she was already a part of his life. Much like her brother, she had quickly integrated herself into his heart and now, fear gripped him. He couldn't even assume how Sherlock was feeling.

"We have to find her." John gasped breathlessly as he sat down, his system already going into the early stages of shock.

"We have our best men on it." Lestrade assured them, to which Sherlock simply snorted.

Throwing himself at the couch, he folded his arms and glared at Lestrade. "No. You don't. Let me."

"You're too close, Sherlock." He told him in a reassuring tone. "We'll find her."

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

The bag was pulled roughly from her head, sending her hair everywhere. The sudden brightness made her blink and she moved her hands to rub at them. Where the hell was she? The fuzziness in her head and cotton wool taste in her mouth told her that she had been drugged. Stiff neck- been unconscious for a while.

She was in a room. It was oddly bright and almost circular in formation. A large window wrapped around a portion of the wall and showed a garden beyond. It let the daylight in and it shone over the desk that she was sat at. The desk itself was mostly clear, only a tea set sat there, with freshly brewed tea.

Behind the desk sat a small man with a large personality. He was obviously used to being the smallest person in the room and made up for it by making his personality speak for him. Loud. Boastful. Confident. The way he sat, appearing relaxed against the chair spoke fo a large ego and an air of intolerability. He sipped at a teacup as he stared at her.

So this was Moriarty? About time.

Swallowing and casting her eyes around quickly she widened them and forced her heart rate up. "W-Who are you?" Raise the pitch, stumble over words. "Where am I!?" Crack the voice, add a tremble. But don't overdo it. Bringing her arms in, she clasped them in front of herself, gratified that she was still wearing her long black coat. Thank you John! This covered her almost completely as she sat in the uncomfortable chair.

"Good morning sunshine." The man behind the desk spoke in a soft Irish accent, his brown eyes roaming over her and a self-satisfied smile forming on his face. He nodded to something behind her and she was aware of the sound of people leaving.

Forcing a gasp through her lips, she turned her head quickly as if just noticing the two henchmen now.

Just as quickly as she turned, she turned back and looked at Moriarty again.

"Poor little Alice has fallen down the rabbit hole and now can't get back up." He spoke to her in a sing-song voice. The sound of the door closing behind her and the knowledge that they were alone had Alice relaxing.

Relaxing her posture, she leaned back in her chair and allowed a smirk to form on her face. "You were expecting the white rabbit to come to my rescue?" She asked crossing her knees as she looked at him. "But he's running late." A small victory- a brief look of confusion over Moriarty's face.

Leaning forward on her chair, she spoke clearly as she reached for the tea set. Stroking a single finger over the teapot she removed her gaze from the man to look at the pot. It was old, and obviously very expensive and of a brilliant quality. The lid was flipped open and she slowly traced two fingers up the side in a 'walking' pattern.

"Instead, you get the Red Queen of Hearts." Fingers now reaching the top of the pot, she raised her eyes to Moriarty. "And it's off with your head." Flicking her finger, she forcefully closed the lid, her smirk never dying.

"I know what you have planned, Mister Moriarty." Cocking her head to the side, she locked eyes with him, the smirk turning into a very serious gaze. "And just know. If you hurt my brother... " She stood slowly and deliberately, "Not even Sherlock Holmes will be able to solve your murder."

With that, she turned and began to walk out of the room.

"You planned this!" His outraged and surprised cry followed her and she stopped to turn, looking at him over her shoulder.

"And you were such a willing puppet."

Leaving him to his surprise, she strolled from the room, her pace strong and confident.

~ ~ How to Save a Life ~ ~

AN/

So... What do you guys think? Starting to get interesting?  
Do you like it? Do you hate it?  
There's more to come, and this is where the plot gets heavy. Soon, Reichenbach.  
Again, I have to thank Tris for her help in planning this.  
Please leave a comment. I want to know what people think-even if it's a simple 'keep going' message. Makes me feel proud. The more reveiws I receive, the quicker I update!


	7. Always Running out of Time

AN/

Here we go guys... the penultimate chapter.  
There is a sequel planned.

Also, I do apologise for anyone that got multiple notices with this chapter. For some reason the text ended up smooshed together in places. Not sure why, or what happened.

~~ Always Running out of Time ~~

She was only gone for a grand total of three hours, yet those were three hours that neither John nor Sherlock ever wanted to repeat. The complete and utter feeling of helplessness and uselessness that the pair had felt during those long, long hours were ones that they were both unaccustomed to. All they could do was wait and no matter how much Sherlock wanted to join in the search, Lestrade was there to stop him. He kept telling him that he was 'too close' to the subject matter and that he should trust his people to do what they were supposed to do and find her.

In the end, it wasn't the police that found her, but rather one of Mycroft's CCTV cameras. Next came the forty minute wait for her to be escorted home.

She had been found by the London Pleasure Gardens, exactly ten miles away from Baker Street. Sherlock had paced the room and checked the time every two minutes for the duration of her return trip.

The moment she came through the door, looking pale and shaken, he pounced. Hands on her shoulders, he held her at arms length and stared at her. "Are you alright!? Did he hurt you!? What did he say to you!? What did he want!?"

"Sherlock!" John cried, trying to pry his death grip from his sister's shoulders. But the detective wouldn't budge.

"Alice, answer me! Are you hurt!?" There was a look of shear panic in his eyes and his body was shaking a little.

"I would if you give me a chance to!" She swallowed and gently pushed Sherlock's hands off her shoulders-which were beginning to hurt from the abuse. "I'm fine," She told him, holding onto one of his hands with both of hers. "He didn't hurt me. I think he just wanted to scare us." She allowed John to join them and gently place a hand around her shoulders. He led her to the sofa and she sat, watching as he made his way into the kitchen to prepare some tea for them.

Sherlock sat beside her and Lestarde on the arm chair.

"He didn't say anything to me. I woke up alone and I wasn't stopped when I made my way out." Her voice shook a little as she lifted her legs to rest against her chest. Knowing the signs of lying inside and out (as you would with Sherlock as a brother), she knew exactly how to appear truthful. "I'm just a little shaken... The ambushed me on the way back from the store. They drugged me-" She saw that Sherlock was about to say something and she shook her head, "Mycroft's already had me looked at. I'm fine. Just a mild state of shock." She offered everyone a smile before turning to Lestrade.

"I'm sorry. But I don't have anything else to tell you. We can't even prove that it was him."

Really, she wanted Moriarty to go to jail, but she knew that if she said anything, worse things would happen. There was no way to get at him legally. The only way to stop him would be to stoop to his level. She only hoped that her not-so-veiled threat would work.

After a short while, Sherlock finally kicked Lestrade from the flat and the three were left to their own devices. Alice stayed on their couch that night, playing up the need to be comforted and to feel safe. She knew that Moriarty wouldn't try anything right away-and he wasn't stupid enough to attack her while at her home. Not when Sherlock was on high alert.

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~ ~

Over the next few days Alice noticed Sherlock's resolve to keep her as far away from his case as possible. It didn't stop her from snooping and finding the informative in other ways, but it did make the task a lot harder. Before, he'd simply neglected to mention his case, but now...now every word of information was hidden in one way or another.

She found it to be a fun game- a battle between herself and her brother. She found all the information, oh she found it all right, but it often took her hours to do so.

After three days, Sherlock confronted her about her snooping.

"You've been going through my things." He stated simply as the three of them sat down to dinner one night.

Keeping her eyes on the television, Alice smirked, "I wouldn't have to, if you didn't hide your information from me."

The television show was a strange one- something about supernatural beings and two hunter brothers who vanquished them. She wasn't really paying too much attention to it, rather using it as a way to avoid looking at her brother or his friend.

"Often, things that are hidden are done so for a reason." Sherlock continued. She knew that John's curious eye was on both of them, so she simply shrugged.

"But Sherlock. Isn't the pursuit of knowledge always a noble one? Surely you should be congratulating my intellect and my ability to best you."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Sherlock stiffen and knew that she'd got him. If he simply stated that he hadn't meant her to find the information, then he had no standing on telling her off for finding it. If he claimed that he hadn't wanted her to find the information, then he would have to admit that his younger sister had out smarted him. For her, it was a win win, and Sherlock commented no further.

The next day, she found he'd begun to use the coffee table for his notes again. Sitting down beside him, she looked over his shoulder. "Trying to link him to all your other cases?" She asked. Sherlock simply nodded, not taking his eyes from the notes before him. Alice saw a few of the pages were print outs from John's blog.

As much as the man seemed to despise the blog, she knew that he found it invaluable.

"I don't want you involved." Sherlock's voice made her jump slightly -she hadn't expected him to speak while he was reading over the notes.

Frowning, she turned her head to look at him, cradling her cup of coffee to her chest for warmth. "What?"

"The case. I don't want you involved. It's too dangerous." Sherlock hadn't lifted his eyes from the papers but they had stopped moving from side to side. He wasn't reading them anymore- he was giving Alice all his attention without wanting it to seem that way.

"I'm already involved, Lock." She told him softly, "If you don't let me help then you're as good as letting him win." She picked up one of the files and looked at it- an extract from John's blog regarding their first case together. "You know for sure that this was something that he was involved with. The cabbie said as much, didn't he?" She put the document in a pile, along with the official reports from the case. She didn't ask where Sherlock got those-she knew better than that.

Sherlock simply nodded and together they worked on sorting the files into 'obvious' 'needs more' and 'interesting'.

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~ ~

Sherlock had placed some ground rules to Alice's involvement with the case. He'd threatened to take his work to the Yard and do it there, where she couldn't find it if she disobeyed. At least she'd managed to dissuade him from trying to make her live with Mycroft.

Alice was expected to take all measures possible to protect herself-including but not limited to always being accompanied by either Sherlock or John while outside the flat.

Alice was to never demand information. She would be given as much as Sherlock deemed necessary for her to help him and not be in danger.

If something was to happen to Sherlock or John during this investigation, she was to allow Mycroft to take her into his protection. (Alice had contested this, asking if it came down to it she could go to Lestrade instead).

Alice was not to approach any suspects. She was not to be seen helping them in anyway. This was to prevent another kidnapping attempt.

She was to trust nobody.

For the most part, these rules were logical, so she agreed to them. What Sherlock didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~~

As the days passed, Alice's frustration increased. Sherlock was holding out on her and John was following his lead! They were holding out on her and she wasn't able to find any information from anywhere else. The worst part was when the Yarders had come by. Lestrade had warned Sherlock that his arrest was imminent, and Sherlock had asked him to take Alice back with him- to keep her safe.

And so, almost literally kicking and screaming, she had been brought into the station. She tried not to be angry at Lestrade -it wasn't his fault after all, but that didn't make it any easier.

It didn't take her long to get out- she wasn't under arrest and therefore she wasn't held in any kind of security. All it took was a few hours to give Greg a false sense of security and a request for coffee and a sandwich. While he was acquiring that, she simply walked out, avoiding anybody that was associated with the DI.

Once out, she made her way towards St. Barts, avoiding the regular routs and cabs. She didn't want Lestrade to find her and take her back in. Wondering exactly what was happening with her brother, she made her way into the computer labs and settled before a computer.

Hacking into the London CCTV feed wasn't all that hard. No, the hard part was doing it without Mycroft noticing. Still, it took her a little under twenty minutes to find the back door and seal it behind her. She watched as her brother ran through the streets. Was he holding John's hand? No. Upon closer examination she saw the way their hands hung and realized that they were handcuffed. She'd be curious to know how they'd gotten themselves into this.

Reaching for her mobile, she dialled a number.

"Lock and John have been arrested... Make that go away." Without waiting for Mycroft's response, she hung up and turned back to the cameras, following her brother's rout through the alleyways of London. She laughed a little as they struggled with a fence and shook her head. Her brother needed to learn how to work with others.

She watched as they ran in front of a bus and just rolled her eyes as they were flung out of the way and carried on.

Knowing that they would be alright from here on, she backed her way out of the system and closed the door. Leaning back from the computers she sighed. Well... One thing was sure, Sherlock or John would come back here eventually. Either that or they'd go back to the flat...

Standing she made her way to the door and downstairs. Why not meet that friend of Sherlock's? Holly was it? No, that didn't sound right... Molly!

The young woman was in the mortuary and Alice let herself in (seriously, it wasn't hard. Why didn't they have better secuirty here? Honestly!).

"Oh. Hello..." Molly seemed a little confused as to why she was there.

"Molly, is it?" Alice asked, taking a seat and looking at her. She could see why Sherlock thought she was normal. She certainly looked normal. "My name is Alice. I need your help."

"Uhm... Are you allowed to be here?" The poor woman looked highly unconformable, and Alice realised that Sherlock wouldn't have told this woman about her.

"I'm Sherlock's sister." She told her. "And I need to know everything that Jim Moriarty ever said to you."

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~ ~

As she was leaving the mortuary, she ran into John-quite literally. The man was flustered and looking very upset. In his current state he was seeming very uncoordinated and Alice had to literally catch him.

"Woah! John, what-?" She helped him regain his footing and took in his appearance. His eyes were wide and his heart was beating quickly.

"Mrs. Hudson. God, she's been shot!" Alice's eyes widened and sucked in a breath.

Nodding once, she turned around, still holding John's arm. "Okay." Swallowing she nodded again and began to lead him out of the hospital. "Is Lock already on his way?" She asked.

John surprised her by shaking his head. "N-no. He said -he said that "Alone protects him"." There was a bitterness in his voice as they increased their pace.

The twenty minute cab ride to Baker Street was taken in complete silence, John still worrying profusely for their elderly land lord. As soon as they arrived, he jumped out of the cab (leaving Alice to pay) and rushed inside. Once she joined him, she took in his determined face and the fact that Mrs. Hudson was there, completely unharmed and seemingly confused.

It took her less than a minute to figure it out. "Sherlock?"

John nodded. He'd been tricked and he knew it. "Stay here." He told Alice. "Stay here and take care of Mrs. Hudson."

Alice nodded once and took her gently into the kitchen to explain some of what had been happening over the past few days over a nice cup of hot tea.

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~ ~

Alice and Mrs. Hudson had a 'nice little chat' over tea. Using this time to keep her mind focused, Alice pretended to listen-and indeed, she did absorb some of the information given to her as Mrs. Hudson prattled on about her sister living in Manchester. Apparently she was quite sickly and Mrs. Hudson was worried that she didn't have much time left in this world.

Making all the right sad sounds, Alice pretended to care. She thought did pretty well at it actually.

A sharp buzzing on her thigh alerted her to the fact that she'd received a text.

Looks like Rabbit wants to play. -JM

Swallowing, Alice put the phone away and smiled sheepishly at Mrs. Hudson. "Sorry, there's something I have to take care of." She told her before leaving.

~ ~ Always Running out of Time ~ ~

AN/  
Okay, so there's just one more chapter to go. I was going to do it all at once, but then I decided that it was getting too long. The next chapter is the final chapter. Scary, huh?

As always, need to thank Tris for the inspiration. Also my best bud Chris for reading it and telling me what he really thinks xD.  
Okay, the next chapter has been completed and is ready for posting.  
But I'm gonna be a troll. - You're not getting it for a while, unless you can convince me otherwise xD

Thanks Chris -AM.


	8. Her Name is Alice

AN/

Oh gods. The last chapter.

Trigger warnings for severe Reichenfeels.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

~ ~ Her name is Alice ~ ~

The cool wind rushed him as the door opened and he stepped out, blinking in the sudden light. Here, on the rooftop of Saint Barts, he could see over London-his beloved city. A now familiar song floated to him on the air and he knew that Morairty was waiting.

_'Ah ah ah ah Stayin' alive, stayin' alive'_

As he walked towards him, Moriarty held his phone out and looked at him. "Ah. Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock, and our problem – the final problem."

Sherlock said nothing. Gave nothing away. If this man wanted to play games, then let him. "Stayin' alive! It's so boring, isn't it?" Jim continued as he turned the infernal music off and placed his phone inside his pocket. Yet he still did not stand.

Striding forward, Sherlock stopped short of arms reach and looked down at the man -his mortal enemy. This man had attacked him, put John in danger, manipulated Mycroft, _kidnapped_ his sister.

As much as he loved this game, Sherlock knew that it had to stop.

He hadn't even realized he'd begun to pace, or that he was tuning Moriarty out until he heard the man tell him he had beaten him. Turning his head sharply at him, now paying attention to his words, Sherlock continued to pace.

"And you know what? In the end it was easy."

Ah. Here it was. Turning to face Jim, Sherlock stopped and began to put his plan into action. Slipping the cellphone up his sleeve, he hit record. He didn't know exactly what was to come, but he knew that the man was going to say _something_ incriminating. He needed to gloat after all.

"It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out _you're_ ordinary just like all of them." Jim continued prattling on, not knowing (or at least Sherlock hoped he didn't know) what Sherlock was doing.

Each man believed the other was falling into their trap.

"Ah well." The disappointed tone of Moriarty's words made Sherlock have to fight to refrain from smirking. The consulting criminal stood and approached. It took all of Sherolck's willpower to not flinch or give away his plan. He knew that one slip, one tiny little slip, would clue the other in.

So he simply stood there, his arms clasped behind his back, his phone recording up his sleeve as Moriarty walked around him in a slow, dizzying pace.

"Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?"

It only took Sherlock a second to realize what the man was talking about. "Richard Brook." He said, betraying no emotion in his voice.

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."

"Of course." It _had_ been obvious after all.

"Attaboy."

"Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach – the case that made my name." It was hard to say that without bitterness. If it hadn't been for that case- for the publicity surrounding it, so much would have been different. Still, Sherlock didn't make it a habit to dwell on 'what ifs'.

"Just tryin' to have some fun!"

Sherlock began to tap out the same sequence that he had noticed all those days ago when Moriarty had been in his flat. He remembered it beat for beat and played it out exactly. This was what Moriarty wanted to believe. That he'd fallen for it.

"Good. You got that too."

"Beats like digets. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system." Tell him what he wants to hear.

"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy." Did Moriarty know just how irritating his voice could get? Sherlock just wanted this over and done with, but first, first he needed the incriminating evidence.

Play the game. Reaching up he tapped his head and spoke again, "Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty." Add a little triumph here, an inflection there.

For once, Sherlock was grateful that Mycroft had insisted on the acting school.

"No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy." Make him think he's won.

"This is too easy. There is no key, doofus!" Moriarty screamed this in his face and Sherlock used that to fuel his 'shock'.

"Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless." The criminal continued. Confusion. Furrow the brow, blink a few extra times and randomly, exhale, purse lips. Feel it, then show it.

"You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed." Sherlock didn't let himself relax as Moriarty turned away. It wouldn't do well for the man to catch the bored expression that would otherwise be on his face. Really. Could this be over now?

"I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock." He was mocking him. Here came the gloating. Finally.

"But the rythym!" He tried to object, to sound utterly confused and defeated.

"Partita number one." Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach!" The exasperation in his voice would normally be quite amusing but today, today it was simply tiresome.

He longed to scream 'get it over with!' but he kept his character. He needed this to work.

"But then how did …?"

"Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?" he'd expected to be cut off, but it still irritated him.

"Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants." Spreading his arms wide, Jim began to speak down to Sherlock, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it."

A real frown came to him then. He'd expected this, but for Jim to be so confident in suggesting it before even trying to _talk_ him into it... That was a turn. Nevermind. All plans must be fluid for them to work.

"Do it? Do – do what?" He blinks and looks at Moriarty, allowing the momentery confusion to show on his face for longer than he had felt it.

A part of him couldn't believe that the consulting criminal was falling for this. Surely he realized that Sherlock wasn't _this_ idiotic? Did the man really have such a low opinion of him? Sherlock felt let down- almost betrayed.

Slowly turning to look at Moriarty, he spoke. "Yes, of course. My suicide."

""Genius detective proved to be a fraud." I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales." as Jim spoke, Sherlock made his way to the edge and looked down. Good. Molly had done as he'd asked and set it all up.

Quickly, he checked everything even as he felt Jim come up beside him to peer over. Would he see it? Would he notice his way out?

"And pretty Grimm ones too." The criminal finished with an obviously fake grimace.

Now he needed the man to confess to everything. How...?

"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." Lul him into correcting him. Reverse psychology. Tell him what he wanted to hear. Make him the hero worht worshiping.

"Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort." It wouldn't be easy. The man was obviously just as annoyed as he was. And really, this _was_ a tedius discussion. Still, there had been a few useful things in the conversation so far.

"Go on. For me." Sherlock ignored him, along with the higher pitched "Pleaaasssseeee."that the man somehow managed to squeeze out of his vocal chords.

Fear? Would that work? Threaten him with...with what? He already thought he'd won, so.. His life!

Quickly, he spun and grabbed Moriarty, holding him over the edge. Clearly Moriarty didn't think that he had any intention of harming him. He simply stared at him for a moment.

"You're insane!" He glowered at the man, remembering that this was the man who had kidnapped his sister, threatened his best friend and manipulated his brother.

"You're just getting that _now_?" There was a disbelieving glint in Moriarty's eyes and Sherlock felt the need to shake that confidnence. Pushing him slightly more over the edge (keeping a firm grasp of his lepels) he glared at him.

The panicked "Woop woop woop!" That Moriarty squeaked was actually quite satisfying, and a part of him wanted to let go so that this man, this clever clever man's last words would be those.

Quickly, he reeled in those thoughts. He needed a confession!

"Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive!" Moriarty spread his arms as if daring Sherlock to do it-to end them then and there.

Sherlock glared at him harder and then Moriarty said something that wasn't predicted. Soemthing that he didn't see coming.

"Your friends will die if you don't."

And that was when his whole world stopped spinning for a moment. That was when his heart thundered in his chest and his blood froze.

"John."

"Not just John." There was glee in Moriarty's eyes and Sherlock had to hold himself back from simply decking the man. Then he added "Everyone".

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"Everyone."

"Lestrade..."

"Everyone."

He couldn't mean... No. If this man was threatening...

"Alice?" The choked word was almost a whisper and that was when Sherlock knew that he'd underestimated Moriarty.

Going into this, he had known that Jim would try and talk him into suicide. He had set it up so that if it came down to it, he could survive such attempt without anybody ever knowing but this... This was leverage that he hadn't expected.

"Four bullets. Four gunmen. Four victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless you jump."

And he was right. Sherlock's eyes were moving from place to place as he tried to come up with another way out. He didn't even notice when Jim freed himself and stood upright.

"You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die ... unless ..."

"... unless I kill myself – complete your story."

Jim grinned and nodded, looking oddly like a demonic puppy. "You've gotta admit that's sexier."

"And I die in disgrace." Only then would Jim well and truly have won. There was no coming back from that and he wasn't creating a martyr. Nobody would want to follow in his footsteps. Nobody would want to carry on the work of a fraud.

"Of _course_. That's the _point_ of this!" Jim wandered to the edge and once again, Sherlock had the urge to just nudge him over. He wasn't listening to the man's next words-something about an audience. Good. His network had arrived.

And that was when he realized that there was still a way out of this. Still a way that he could walk free and alive. But he'd not be able to come home. Not until he'd taken care of every threat to John and Alice.

Still ignoring the man, Sherlock moved to stand on the ledge and look down. One final check. Yes. It was all ready. He could see every part of his plan coming together.

"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. _I'm_ certainly not gonna do it."

There! Something else he could use!

Swallowing, he managed to keep his terrified persona (he was afraid- afraid for John and Alice and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade), he spoke again, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"Would you give me ... one moment, please; one moment of privacy? Please...?"

Jim did. And Sherlock smiled.

This would all work out.

~ ~ Her Name is Alice ~ ~

She was half way out of the door when the call came. Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen for a moment, the name lit ominously on the screen. 'DI Lestrade'.

Swallowing, she pressed the button and slowly lifted the phone to her ear. She barely heard the words, only knew that they must be wrong! Surely Sherlock couldn't have...

For a few minutes she just stood in silence, ignoring Greg's insistent questions. Dimly she heard the panicked "Are you okay! Where are you!?" that screamed from the phone as it was lowered to her side. Pressing the red button, she stared ahead for a moment before taking off.

She arrived at Saint Barts twenty minutes later to a scene of pandamodium. John was sat in an ambulance (why did they call that when they were _right_ next to the hosiptal?) an orange blanket over his shoulders. Running to his side, she all but collapsed.

"J-John." She was begging with him, pleading that he'd simply tell her that it wasn't true, that her brother was still alive and safe somewhere and that he hadn't let Moriarty win! But one look at the man, at his shock soaked eyes told her everything she needed, and everything she didn't want to know.

"God. God now." She couldn't stop the tears as they rose up, her own body shutting down into shock. Shaking she reached out her hands, holding onto John for dear life. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real! She'd wake up, any minute now, she'd be home and safe and sound. Sherlock would be holding her, singing to her and telling her that everything was alright. That they would be safe now. That the sun was coming up, and when tomorrow came-

But there would be no more tomorrows for Sherlock Holmes.

Together, she and John felt themselves crash. This man, this brilliant, fantastic man... he was gone.

~ ~ Her Name is Alice ~ ~

Sherlock's funeral was held less than a week after his death. There had been no enquiry, no police investigation. It was open and shut.

Suicide.

That word kept playing through his mind, rolling over and over, falling over itself. John's words resonated in his mind and for once, Mycroft Holmes had to agree.

He had caused this.

So it was no surprise to him when neither John nor Alice would talk to him as they gathered in the graveyard, their blacks reflecting the feelings in each of their hearts. This was truly a tragedy.

Mycroft didn't really listen at the funeral, didn't give an eulogy -he had no right. He simply watched. It wasn't until Alice began to sing that he started paying attention. It was a familiar song, and listening to the words, he worked out why.

It was the song that Sherlock always used to sing to her to make her feel better. Mycroft had only heard him sing it twice, but for him, that was enough for him to remember.

It was a little surprise when John joined in quietly, followed by Mrs. Hudson and a few from the yard.

_'Don't you dare look out your window darling  
Everything's on fire  
The war outside our door keeps raging on  
Hold on to this lullaby  
Even when the music's gone  
Gone'_

To Mycroft, it seemed a fitting end to a great man.

~ ~ Her Name is Alice ~ ~

Mycroft had tried to approach her three times, and each time Alice had ignored him. When the coffin had been lowered and John was standing by the grave talking to her lost brother, the elder stepped towards her.

"Alice..."

"No. No Mycroft. Not right now. John told me what you did." She couldn't keep the anger from her voice. It was his fault. This man, this man had made her lose the most important man in her life. "I get it. It was a mistake. But right now, I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to _see_ you. Later, I'll call you. We'll have lunch. Then we'll talk. When I'm ready. Not before." Shaking she kept her eyes away from him-hell, she kept her body facing the other way.

It wasn't long before Mycroft nodded and turned, leaving Alice the solitude she so desperately craved.

When John finished talking to her brother, he joined her and she began to walk with him, interlacing her arm with his. Looking over her shoulder, she spared the cold, black stone one more glance.

No. Now things would be different. She had nothing left to lose.

~ ~ Her Name is Alice ~ ~

"_Alice wanders near and far,_

_But always does she run,_

_For round the bend the queen doth hide,_

_With warring heart shaped gun."_

The slow, steady voice echoed through the empty corridors, resonating from the walls. It was difficult to track, seemingly coming from all directions at once.

_'The queen of red and black you see,_

_Can turn the tables here,_

_Alice will not be the pawn,_

_And heads be rolling there.'_

As he came closer to his office the words became clearer. And he recognised that voice.

_'The spiders web is undone,_

_And caught under a foot,_

_The game is off the war is won,_

_There's nothing you can do.'_

There she was. Sitting behind his desk, drinking his tea from his teapot. She seemed to ignore him, instead making a show of pouring the tea into a second cup, obviously meant for him.

_'Wisdoms words you will not heed,_

_My brothers heart you call,_

_Your burning taunts are worthless words,_

_It's you destined to fall.'_

Finally, she looked up, putting the teapot down she lifted her own cup to her lips and gestured for Moriarty to take a seat. "Please." She added politely and Moriarty found himself obeying, curious as to what she had in mind.

Taking his tea, he took a cautious sip. It tasted right, a little sweet, but definitely tea. He decided to allow her to do the talking. "I have just come from a funeral," She gestured down at her black attire, a long coat that clothed her. "My brother. Fell." She told him, making a soft whistling sound.

Raising her eyes from her drink she looked directly at Moriarty. "And you were there." She smiled at him then, a charming, deceiving smile that didn't' reach her eyes. "Enjoying your tea?" She asked.

That was when he felt it. A coldness gripping at him and spreading, starting from his stomach. A tingling preceded it and his skin flushed hot before he lost all sensations.

"I suspect, Mister Moriarty, that you recognise these symptoms. After all, it was a game you tried to play with my brother. How many did you kill with this pill? Three, four? Always a fifty-fifty chance. But for you, my dear Mister _Brook_, you get both. First there's the numbness. It'll spread throughout your body,"

Jim stood quickly, staring at the tea and gasping a little-the numbness already setting in. "Next comes the loss of motor control,"

Trying to move his arms, he found he failed, the limb simply flailed for a moment before falling limp against his body. He succeeded only in throwing his expensive tea set to the ground. There was the sound of china smashing and a strong smell of tea.

Alice continued talking. "Then, normally the numbness stays as the body shuts down. But I put an anti-paralytic in there. No, I didn't want this to be too easy for you. You will feel it. All of it. Each and every one of your vital organs shutting down, one. By. One." Alice stood, leaving her tea cup on the table. "I always did prefer teabags." she told him with a smile.

"You see, Mister Moriarty, I couldn't let you win this game of yours. The Rabbit is gone. But the queen is here to stay." Jim's legs gave way and he found himself on the ground, slowly trying to back away from the obviously mad woman.

Giving him one, final look of contempt she turned. "This web you've created... This _wonderland_. I think that it'll be mine now. Have a good day, Jim." She said, using his given name for the first time. Stepping over him, she walked calmly, determinedly out of the room, her coat billowing with the movement and parting to show her red dress and heals beneath.

"Do say hello to daddy for me." She added, leaving James Moriarty, the Consulting Criminal to death.

~ ~ Her Name is Alice ~ ~

AN/

So there we have it. An end. Well...What do you think? I always knew that I wanted Alice to interact with Moriarty, but I never expected that I would be having her _kill_ him. Let alone with the pills that were used in "A Study in Pink".

Please don't kill me...

For reference, I used this lovely transcription of "The Reichenbach Falls"  . ?view=559288#t559288 (Link will be on my profile if it doesn't show here).

Most of this chapter was heavily inspired by Tris. She helped me with the idea of how to kill off Moriarty by painting a picture in my mind-the final picture. Alice striding out of the room, confident wearing a black coat and a white dress. Behind her, Moriarty is sprawled on the floor, staring up at her in shock and horror, a smashed (expensive) tea set scattered around him as he dies from a slow poison- the same poison that he tried to kill Sherlock with right the way back in the first episode. She painted that in my mind one night during our late walk.

She is also the author of the poem. She wrote that on the fly while we were walking. There's another one, but it gives spoilers for the sequel. That will be a while in the coming I'm afraid.


End file.
